


A Lump of Coal

by laceymcbain



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angry Sex, Christmas, First Time, Green Kryptonite, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceymcbain/pseuds/laceymcbain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lump of Coal

It was supposed to be a joke.

Lex hadn't meant it to be anything else, but it was too late to claim ignorance, he supposed. Clark would never believe him now, and really, was that so surprising? Did he even believe himself? Somewhere deep inside he sensed he had known what would happen, had suspected at the very least, and yet he'd gone ahead and done it anyway. Dressed it up as a joke with the worst possible punchline --ever--and now Clark was gone. Probably for good. His goodbye had been nothing more than a rush of wind, silencing the flames in the fireplace and leaving a cold, aching space. As if the fire had gone out of Lex as well. He'd extinguished their friendship more completely than Clark's lies ever could.

It had been meant as a joke. A tease. Something friends did. He hadn't known what would happen. Or had he? And wasn't that the same thing Clark was asking himself now--wherever he'd gone when he'd turned and run--asking himself how much Lex knew, if this had all been one more test? The only successful one. Ever.

Lex laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the gaping hall. The thing is, he hadn't known, hadn't guessed, not really, certainly hadn't admitted it to himself anyway--the self that harboured hopes for merry Christmases and friendly hugs from farm boys with smiles that glistened like snow. He hadn't known.

He clung to that truth the way a shark wraps itself around the leg of an unsuspecting swimmer, clamped down and hard, jaws leaking blood but knowing that to let go is to lose everything, and Lex couldn't afford to lose. Not like this. Not yet. He would find a way to make things right. He had to--in the same way he had to breathe to stay alive. Except more so.

But everything made sense now. How foolish he'd been, naive enough to think that Clark's secrets were so much simpler than this. Arrogant thinking that the boy didn't have a real reason for his fear, for the lies that tumbled from his lips as easily as his name. Or Lex's.

He hadn't known. Surely Clark would realize that. He would come back and they would talk, set things right as they always had in the past.

The significance of what had happened started to sink in. He knew Clark's deepest secret, and he was a Luthor. Not to be trusted. Evil. Unworthy. Clark's secret needed to be protected at all costs. At any cost. One way or another, Clark would be back.

Lex rekindled the fire in the hearth, poured himself another drink, and sat down to wait.

***

 _Earlier that day_

It was Christmas Eve, and for the first time in a long time, Lex was looking forward to the holiday. His father was nowhere in sight, and for once the castle in Smallville seemed like the best place on earth to be spending Christmas.

Clark was expected at any moment, and Lex had done something distinctly unLuthorlike and decorated his office. He'd hung a pair of stockings by the fireplace--a deep purple velvet trimmed with silver ribbon, and beside it a matching stocking in scarlet trimmed with blue. It was supposed to be symbolic. Lex wanted Clark to see the pair of stockings--so different and yet somehow belonging together--and know that the two of them could also stand side by side and make it work. Lex hoped it was direct enough. There was no room for subtlety with Clark.

He'd wanted to fill the stockings with treats--toys and sweets and oranges. The kinds of things he remembered from when he was young enough to be granted such indulgences, when his mother still insisted "he's just a boy," and he'd been allowed the luxury of not being a Luthor. Those times were rare in his memory.

But then he'd decided to tease, just a little, make Clark Kent blush because he could, and because it warmed Lex through to see someone still so innocent. To imply that Clark could be naughty, and it was something Lex could do because they were friends--he desperately wanted their relationship to be at a place where he could tease and Clark would laugh and the world wouldn't be thrown off-balance because of it. He was tired of everything being darkness or light, life or death, grand gestures and destiny. Sometimes he just wanted a normal friendship, even if there was nothing normal about either of them, and there were other names than friendship for what was happening between them.

So, Lex had decided to give Clark coal in his stocking. A hard lump of dirty black coal as if to say, "Well, haven't you been a naughty boy? What is it that you've been up to, Clark?", and he could picture the surprised look, the blush that would roll across Clark's face like a wave, the way his green eyes would dance when he realized he was being baited. Then maybe he would say something completely unexpected, a tease on the tip of his tongue--as only Clark could--and Lex would feel the energy surge between them, the way their eyes locked as they both considered what it meant to be naughty.

Maybe Clark would step towards him then, look at him through the long curve of lashes, and Lex would see pride and want and a hundred things Lex couldn't name and Clark wouldn't admit to. Maybe there would also be permission, and Lex could reach up and run his hands though that dark hair, let it run through his fingers like water. He wouldn't close his eyes because he would need to see this, need to know it wasn't just another fantasy, Clark's lips sliding against his like a key sliding into a lock.

Maybe. Lex thought that Clark might just be able to make him believe in Christmas and miracles, the way he'd made him believe in friendship ... and love. He stuffed his hope into a dark corner of his heart and concentrated on what Clark's laughter would sound like when he held a lump of coal in his hand, the ultimate badge of naughty boys at Christmastime.

Except this was Kansas, and there was no coal around. Just miles and miles of corn, and the potash they used at the fertilizer plant--nothing as substantial as coal. So Lex had improvised. Grabbed a rock from the grounds, a rock that was dark and jagged and heavier than it looked, with flecks of bright green staining it through. It was the same green as Clark's eyes, and Lex liked the feel of its weight in his hand as he imagined it settling into the toe of the stocking, heavy enough to make an obvious bulge, round enough to be a Christmas orange.

Clark had pushed through the mansion's doors, pure breathless anticipation dusted with snow, and Lex had shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from pulling him into a hug. It was Christmas, but still, he wasn't sure what the rules were. Did friends hug on Christmas Eve? It seemed like their hugs tended to follow life-or-death situations, excitement and relief pressing them together as they made sure they were alive. It was Christmas, though, and Lex really wanted something to go right for a change, wanted a week without blood or apocalypse, without head trauma and mutants and the familiar taste of lies.

Clark had noticed the stockings right away, and the flash of his smile was the brightest thing in the room. It outshone the star on top of the ridiculously tall tree that Clark had dragged in to Lex's office, leaving a trail of wet snow and pine needles behind him, the tree Clark had insisted on helping him decorate with ornaments dredged out of the attic.

"You hung stockings, Lex," Clark had said, smiling at Lex in a way that said he understood exactly what it meant that there were two of them hanging there. Together. Like destiny.

Lex had crossed over to the mantle then, and felt the toe of each. Made a show of massaging the toe of Clark's stocking, indicating there was definitely something inside. Clark had raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

"Hm, looks like there's something in this one," Lex murmured. "Wonder what it could be?"

"It's too small to be a truck," Clark said, coming closer. "Could be a very small car, I suppose."

"Could be just the keys," Lex supplied helpfully. Clark's face froze for a moment as he wondered if Lex was serious. If Lex thought he could get away with it. If Jonathan Kent had been any other man, Lex might have risked it.

"You wouldn't do that," Clark said, breathing again. Another step and a hand reaching for the stocking.

Lex batted his fingers away, wanting to keep the game going another few seconds. This slow tease between them like really good brandy on a cold night, the way it burned a path inside him, warming places he hadn't known were frozen.

"It's Christmas, Clark. I'm allowed to give you presents," Lex said slyly.

"Lex, what've you done?" Clark asked, but he was smiling.

Lex slipped the stocking from its peg on the fireplace, let its weight rest in his hand as he pretended to ponder what might be in it. He tried to look thoughtful.

"I think that maybe you've been a naughty boy this year, Clark. Feels like a lump of coal. What have you been up to?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Clark's voice full of challenge, a hint of something that sounded like lust, although Lex was never quite sure. The words hit him like a fist to the chest, and suddenly he was breathless with want. He'd been in love with this boy forever. He stopped thinking, had to force his fingers to stop lightly rubbing the rock in his hand, imagining what other things might feel like hard beneath his fingers.

"So Clark Kent has a dark side?" Lex said, watching the flames reflected in Clark's eyes. Clark smiled and caught his lower lip between his teeth.

"Everyone has a dark side, Lex. I'm not fifteen anymore."

Thank God for that, although seventeen wasn't much better. Still, Clark's summer in Metropolis had changed him, aged him, and the intensity that had always marked their relationship had simply become more deliberate on Clark's part. Lex hoped he wasn't misreading the signs.

"So, what do bad boys get for Christmas?" Clark asked, still standing too far away. Lex swallowed.

"Anything they want," Lex murmured, meeting Clark's eyes. He saw his own desires reflected there, and suddenly he felt off-balance. This was still Clark, no matter what game they were playing. He didn't want to lose his friendship, even for something that could be a hundred times better. Time to pull back, stick with the plan, do it slowly. Clark would let him know if this was something he really wanted. He was determined not to push.

"Better see what Santa left you," Lex said casually, and tossed the scarlet stocking to Clark.

He caught it neatly, turning the stocking upside-down and giving it a shake, even as the easy grin threatened to slip off his face. He took an involuntary step backwards, confusion spreading like wildfire. The rock rolled into his hand.

Lex grinned. "It's not exactly a lump of coal, but it's ... Clark?"

Clark was staring at him as if the space between them had turned into miles instead of feet. Lex wondered why Clark looked frightened and surprised and betrayed all at once. The rock pulsed to life with a burst of green that echoed in Clark's eyes. His skin. He choked out Lex's name, as his smile shattered into a thousand broken pieces. Clark tumbled to his knees while Lex stared in slow-motion horror. He didn't know why Clark didn't just let the damn thing go, but it was as if it were glued to the palm of his hand, colour bleeding into Clark's skin, racing through his veins like understanding.

Lex was unable to move, the weight of a thousand questions holding him in place, and it was a moment of absolute clarity. The rock was hurting Clark like nothing else could, and suddenly Lex realized the extent of his wilful blindness. Green was snaking across Clark's flesh, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, and his eyes were begging Lex to do something, anything. Underneath it all, Lex could feel the word "why" on the tip of Clark's tongue, and Lex realized all this time he'd let Clark keep his secrets so he could keep the fantasy of a boy who would love him, who would always arrive in time to save him--even from himself. He hadn't known. He hadn't wanted to know, and really there was no difference anymore.

"Lex." It was no longer his name, but something broken in Clark's mouth, and Lex stood frozen, unbelieving, and maybe he couldn't be blamed for that, but maybe he could. Clark would certainly blame him, and maybe that's why Lex's steps were slow on the parquet floor, slower than they would've been if this had been any other day in Smallville and Lex had found Clark hurting like this. Lex knew the instant the rock was removed, Clark would be gone, and so he moved as if through water or a dream, watching the exquisite twist of pain on Clark's face as he sprawled sideways on the floor, still unable to let the rock go, even to save himself. It was as if the shock of betrayal had seared it to his skin, and no one but Lex could set him free. Lex wasn't sure if he had the strength to do it, if it meant losing Clark forever. He wanted this moment to last. Even if it hurt them both.

"Please, Lex," Clark whispered. "Help me."

Lex knelt beside him, and placed his hand against Clark's cheek. He could feel the veins pulsing under his fingers.

"You lied to me," Lex whispered, his voice full of awe. He suspected it sounded more like anger, but he knew it for what it was. Clark wasn't human. His best friend wasn't human, and Lex still wanted him so much he ached. Lex wondered why love couldn't ever be simple. Or painless.

"Lex, please," Clark begged. He tugged on Lex's sleeve weakly. "Don't do this."

"I didn't," Lex said, stroking a hand gently through Clark's hair. "You did."

Lex closed his eyes and leaned closer, rolling Clark onto his back, and kneeling above him. Clark's lips were soft and yielding beneath his. Lex tried to imagine that the soft moan was one of pleasure, not pain or disgust, as he kissed him as gently and thoroughly as he could. Clark was kissing him back--he could feel the gentle struggle as Clark fought to find enough strength to move his lips. Lex swallowed his whispers and flicked his tongue gently over Clark's lips.

"You won't believe me, but I didn't know," Lex said pulling back, Clark's hand in his own. He started to gently unfold the hand that held the shining green rock. "You should've trusted me." Lex spread Clark's fingers. "I loved you." The rock dropped into Lex's palm, and he threw it across the room. It skittered along the floor, dark and hard as coal. The green pall disappeared from Clark's skin instantly, and Lex caught a look of hurt so raw it made him look away. He closed his eyes as he fell backwards against the floor, aching from the touch of a hand that was gone before his body could register its warmth against his chest, the familiar rush of air around him.

When he opened his eyes, he was completely alone.

***

Lex knew the instant that Clark returned.

"Is it gone?"

Lex stared into his drink and tried to pretend that he didn't know exactly what Clark meant. There were too many answers to that question, and all of them should have been "yes," but none of them were.

"What do you mean, Clark?"

"You know what I mean." There was no trace of the wide-eyed playful boy who'd wanted his Christmas stocking. Lex was looking at a man with crossed arms folded across a chest as wide as Kansas, staring down at him with black eyes and a touch of hatred that Lex recognized all too well. He'd seen it in other people, but never in Clark, and it hurt like it never had before. Lex fought back a bark of hysterical laughter as he realized he'd managed to scar Clark in a way that would never show on his body. Yet there it was in his eyes, clear as cut-crystal. He suspected his father would've been proud. He swallowed the last mouthful of brandy.

"Is it gone?" Clark repeated.

"Be specific, Clark. The brandy? Our friendship? That lovin' feelin'?"

"The rock, Lex."

"Ah, the rock." Lex's eyes flickered to the fire, then up to Clark. How easy it would be to lie to him, how easy to let it all end here. Now. Before it hurt more, before it got worse. Lex had never taken the easy way out. "No."

"No?" The step backwards said it all. As if Lex had struck him with something, and after all, wasn't that exactly what he'd done? "Why isn't the rock gone?"

Good question, Lex thought. It was something he'd been asking himself since he'd held the rock in his hand, placed it gently in a lead box and set it on the fireplace mantle. Waiting. The thing was that he knew Clark wouldn't believe him if he said yes. Even if he'd gotten rid of every damn meteor rock in the whole of Lowell county, Clark would've insisted on scanning Lex and the mansion with whatever he did with his eyes. Lex somehow thought it hurt less to let Clark be right about him in some small way.

"No, the rock isn't gone. It's in the box on the mantle." Clark's eyes narrowed, and Lex felt a certain villainous pleasure when he added: "The one you can't see through."

He'd had some time to think while he was waiting for Clark to return, time to replay the moments of the past few years. Building a case against Clark, adding and discarding truths and lies, making them fit together like a puzzle that he'd always had the pieces to but never the time to assemble. Now he had the time, and everything, everything made perfect sense. He couldn't believe he'd been so blind.

"What are you planning to do with it?" No acknowledgment whatsoever, and they were back to secrets and lies. All business. Clark wasn't here to patch things up, to ask questions, to find out why. He wasn't here to listen, give Lex a chance to explain as he'd done so many times in the past. He was here to ensure that Lex could be controlled, neutralized like a stray dog that wandered into other people's yards and needed to be taught a lesson. Lex could almost see Clark running through the list of options. Could he hurt him? Lex was certainly no stranger to head trauma. Could he kill Lex if he had to? Could he do it if Lex was that much of a threat? The possibility was intriguing. Lex wondered how many other ways he had misread the boy in front of him.

"I'm not planning on doing anything, Clark. It was a joke. I know you won't believe that, but I honestly didn't know."

"You're right. I don't believe you." Beneath the anger, an overwhelming chord of hurt, and Lex could feel it echoing in his soul. There'd been betrayal on both ends. Clark seemed to have forgotten that.

Lex shrugged. "Suit yourself. You've already made up your mind, so I don't even know why you're here. You don't want to listen, you won't let me explain. You're only here because you're trying to figure out if you have to kill me to protect your secret."

Clark flushed and Lex knew he'd been right. The thought didn't comfort him. He'd never imagined that Clark would hurt him--at least not physically. It was a surprise to realize how naive he'd been. The amount of trust he's placed in the one person who could destroy him with almost no effort.

"I couldn't--kill someone, Lex," Clark said and he sounded like he always did when he was trying to reassure him. But the shake in his voice told Lex more than he wanted to know. Clark was more frightened than Lex had ever seen, and fear warped people in strange and unpredictable ways. Lex had put a hole through Roger Nixon's chest because of fear. He knew that sometimes killing someone was not so much a choice as an absence of one. If he'd left his father to die under that pillar during the tornado, it wouldn't have been the same as killing him with a gun. He could've played the grieving son and no one would've been the wiser. It wasn't as hard to kill someone as people might think.

"I'm not here to ... kill you, Lex."

"But I know your secret, Clark. I know what ... hurts you," Lex murmured, still staring into the fire. He had let Clark writhe on the floor in agony because watching him hurt was easier than letting him go. He wondered what that said about him. Maybe he was a Luthor, after all.

"Other people know my secret." Lex felt an insane stab of jealousy. Of course, they did. People that Clark trusted. People who weren't Lex.

"Other people aren't Luthors."

"You're not your father," Clark said, but it lacked conviction.

"But I could be," Lex stated. It would be so easy--already the lines between right and wrong were blurred, the world he lived in more grey than anything else, and it was only when Clark was around that there seemed to be moral certitudes. Lex wasn't sure how he was going to manage on his own, without Clark, because it was pretty much a given that Clark wouldn't be walking through his door anymore after tonight.

"Why did you kiss me?" It wasn't the question Lex had been expecting, at least not yet. It should've been "why did you do it? Why did you put the meteor rock in the stocking?". Lex had answers to those questions, carefully constructed answers that he'd thought about while the clock ticked off the endless seconds and the brandy failed to warm the soul-deep chill in his bones.

"I had nothing to lose," Lex said. "I knew you would never let me ... after what happened. I guess I should apologize for that."

"But you're not sorry." The tremor in the voice sounded much more like Clark, and Lex risked a glance at him. The arms had unfolded, but anger and tension were etched across his face, pale as marble in the firelight.

"No, I'm not sorry about the kiss, although it wasn't the best timing, I admit. I _am_ sorry about hurting you."

"Are you sure?" Clark said, poking at the fire with a wrought iron poker. The wood snapped and shot embers into the air.

Lex sighed with frustration. "I didn't know, Clark. Yes, you're the worst liar in history, but apparently I was more than willing to buy your bullshit because I really didn't know. I didn't want to know."

"That's a lie. You've been pushing me to tell you since we met."

"And I've never pushed hard enough to find out." Lex was on his feet. "You don't think I could've made you tell me--if I'd wanted to? If your secrets were all I wanted?"

Lex took the poker out of Clark's hands and threw it aside. He put his hands on Clark's face and pulled him close, close enough to see himself reflected in Clark's eyes. "You don't think I could've seduced them out of you if I'd really been trying? Come on, Clark, even you're not that naive."

Clark pulled his face out of Lex's grasp and took two steps back. Lex watched him lick his lips, tongue dark as flame, and Lex waited for the denial, the recriminations. This friendship was over and it was only a matter of whether it went out with a bang or a whimper. Lex felt a cold hand around his heart, and wondered at the fact that breathing was not nearly as automatic an activity as he'd been led to believe. He watched Clark watching him, and waited while the fire crackled and spit between them.

"Say I believe you," Clark said finally, and Lex felt the air rush out of his lungs. "Say I believe that you didn't consciously know what you were doing." Clark's eyes raked across Lex's face. "It doesn't change the fact that you know."

"No, it doesn't."

"Or that you could hurt me," Clark said quietly.

"I hurt you without knowing your secret, Clark. Is there really any difference?" Lex returned. "Besides, you can hurt me too."

Clark looked up at that, and Lex felt a shiver ripple down his spine as Clark nodded. He'd never ever felt afraid of Clark until this very moment, and yet there was something exciting about a Clark that could snap his bones in two.

"You have to tell me the truth, Lex," Clark said. The darkness seemed to pull itself around Clark as he crossed the few feet to stand in front of him. Lex nodded blindly, knowing that he couldn't refuse Clark anything. He owed him something for what he'd done. If Clark wanted his life, maybe it would be better for all of them.

"The truth, Clark." There were hands on Lex's hips, and Lex had forgotten how big Clark's hands actually were. They covered his thin hips, fingers stretching around his waist like a belt.

"I'm not human," Clark whispered. "I could destroy the world."

The whisper seemed to float from Clark's mouth directly into Lex's, and he swallowed the words like a tonic. Clark's fingers tightened on his back, hard enough to mark the silk, and Lex didn't care because Clark was afraid, and somehow that made everything bearable. It gave him something to work with, something to hold on to. Lex wanted to smile, but knew it would ruin everything, that Clark would think he was laughing at him, mocking him, the alien farm boy with the angelic face and the too-large hands who wasn't allowed to play with other children because he might hurt them.

"I could destroy you," Clark said carefully, making sure that Lex understood the truth of what he was saying. The subtle pressure on his back suggested there would be new bruises there by morning.

Lex stepped closer until there was nothing but the silken rub of fabric between them. His eyes glanced at Clark's lips, the nervous flickering of his tongue as he struggled with the words. Their breathing was harsh and unsteady, and Lex realized with some detachment that they were both afraid.

"I could destroy you, too, Clark."

Clark's eyes fixed on him, hands lifting him off the floor just a fraction, enough that Lex could feel Clark's strength coursing through his body. The fire snapped restlessly beside them.

"What would you do? If I wanted to destroy the world?" Clark's voice was a breathless whisper against Lex's skin, and he could smell sweat and cloves and the lingering smoke from the fire. An ember floated upwards and flared against Clark's skin. Lex touched it with his finger, brushing away the grey smudge of ash.

"Would you help me, Lex? Would you stop me?"

Hands were unbuttoning his shirt now, fingers gliding hotly against exposed skin, and Lex wanted to close his eyes. Stopping Clark wasn't anything he wanted to consider at this moment. He could feel the terror and the want and the fear just under Clark's fingertips, all the repression that held his darkness in check. Fingernails scraped lightly across his chest, and Lex gasped as Clark's fingers found a nipple and gently flicked.

"Would you let me destroy you?" Clark whispered, and the mouth that covered Lex's was hot and hard, lips pushing into his, against his. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, and he could feel his lips swelling as they were licked and sucked. He fought back with every ounce of strength he had, struggled for control, forcing his tongue into Clark's mouth, fucking him with it, knowing the taste of triumph when Clark groaned and pulled him hard against his groin.

Then they were falling, tile floor underneath them, grey as old armour, and Lex felt the rip of fabric and he didn't know if it was him or Clark that had done it. Silk and flannel, denim and wool were pulled and tossed until there was nothing but skin, bare and golden in the light of the fire. Lex buried his hands in Clark's hair and pulled him savagely closer, knowing there was nothing he could do to hurt Clark, at least not physically, and somehow it felt right to wrench his mouth aside, bite hard against his neck and listen to him try to form a sentence.

"Fuck, Lex, I came here ... to hurt you," Clark choked out, his lips red with kissing, and maybe a little with blood. Lex could taste the coppery tang of a split lip, and couldn't bring himself to care, as he rolled over and over with Clark, bodies registering the shift from tile to wood, the heat from the fireplace no longer causing sweat to bead on their skin. They were naked and hard and angry, and Lex knew there was no way this would end without someone being fucked, someone split open and bleeding, the world a breath away from destruction. The thought thrilled him the way danger always had. He felt Clark trying to push him away, and fought to keep him close enough to lick and suck, and oh God, the hands on his body moved like lightning, electricity crackling between them like a whip.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Lex whispered, realizing it was true, and that Clark didn't know. Clark was so afraid of what he could do. Lex kissed him, tasting blood again, letting his hands seize Clark's wrists in a grip that would've hurt anyone else.

"I could've killed you, Lex. I--I actually thought about it," Clark said, and Lex rolled them over again, until he was straddling Clark, pinning his arms above his head, and breathing raggedly into his face. His cock leaked hot and heavy against Clark's muscled stomach.

"I know." Lex kissed him hard, his tongue pushing past Clark's defences, drawing out a moan that rattled the windows.

"God, I wanted to hurt you for--"

"For hurting you," Lex finished. He stared into Clark's eyes as he sucked on his own fingers, wetting them, licking his own palm before reaching down and grabbing Clark's cock in his hand. Clark's eyes rolled back as he bucked up into Lex's palm, and Lex stroked him hard, harder than he could've stroked anyone else, and it seemed right that it was him.

"Yes," Clark said, and his voice was a low rasp as Lex's fingers slid over the head of his cock. "God, yes, I wanted to ... hurt you. Because I could."

"Go ahead." Lex said, pushing his own erection hard against Clark's hips, needing the pressure, needing to feel Clark's skin against his own. "Hurt me."

"No, I don't--I couldn't--" Clark was breathless and needy, and when Lex let his hands go, they went straight to Lex's ass, pulling him against him, trapping Lex's hand between them, still stroking Clark's red, wet cock as if his life depended on it ... and maybe it did. Lex almost laughed at the thought. If Clark wanted to fuck him to death, he really couldn't see a reason to protest.

Lex grabbed one of Clark's hands and pulled it to his mouth, sucked two long fingers into his mouth, and watched Clark's eyes flare wide. His tongue licked around the fingers, getting them wet, knowing Clark was imagining his tongue somewhere else.

"Yes, you can, Clark. Come on, do it. You want to." Lex nudged him roughly, and they were rolling again, Clark's hand cradling Lex's head before it hit the floor. Lex smiled into Clark's shoulder.

"No," Clark said, but Lex reached for his cock again and stroked hard, pulling a wretched cry from Clark as he fell against Lex's chest, sucking on the nipple he found there, as if it were an involuntary reflex. Lex arched up into him, and everything was a blur of skin and touch and sound. Clark slipping down his belly, the flat of his tongue swirling in and out of his navel, slicking once over the head of his cock before swallowing him whole, and Lex might have screamed something that was Clark's name. Clark's mouth sliding up and down his length, awkward and desperate, tongue finding the vein on the underside and licking it eagerly, Lex pushing up, up against him, burying himself in Clark's throat, and begging for more. He felt Clark swallowing around him, and that was enough to send him over the edge, Clark's name carving sparks against the stone as he came.

Lex closed his eyes, felt the cool air as Clark pulled away, and Lex wasn't ready to let him go, let this go.

"Don't, Clark," Lex said, voice wet and dark as Clark's mouth. He caught Clark's shoulder and pulled him down, the warmth of Clark's flesh like a blanket covering him. "Don't run. Stay and finish this, or you'll never know."

"Know what?" Clark whispered, and his lips looked swollen in the dying light. Lex reached out a finger and ran it across his mouth, then kissed him, sure he would never get tired of Clark's mouth on his own. He could taste himself on Clark's tongue, bitter and salty, and it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever known.

"How this ends. Destiny. What you came here to find out."

Clark looked at him blankly, and Lex laughed. Maybe it was the laugh of a madman or the suicidal or someone who doesn't have anything left to lose, but for whatever reason he understood Clark better than he understood himself, and he could give Clark what he needed, whether Clark knew what that was or not.

"You came back because you needed to know what I would do, and more than that. You needed to know that someone could push you back. The rock surprised you ... and me too. You've always been the strongest person around, Clark. You could destroy the world, but I won't let you. Yes, I'll hurt you and you'll hurt me because we both can--we're both strong enough for that--but fuck, Clark, you're the only one who keeps me from becoming my worst nightmare. I need you. I need you to keep me human." Lex realized the irony of that, knew that somewhere the fates were laughing their asses off, but he didn't care.

"But I'm not human." Clark's voice broke.

"Whatever else you are, you're Clark Kent," Lex murmured, hand tangling in his hair, "and you're strong enough to do what's right."

"And what's that?" Clark asked, sounding lost.

"Love me," Lex said, and his voice broke. Clark's hands were on him immediately, and Lex shook him off. "Love me, fuck me, hurt me, but don't run away from this, don't leave me with nothing. The only way you'll destroy the world is by giving up on me, Clark, because without you ..."

"The world means nothing." Clark finished, and kissed him hard.

"Yes," Lex said breathlessly. Clark got it, Clark understood. Whatever else they were, they were equals in this. It was always easier to do someone else's work than your own, easier to keep someone else's demons at bay. They could both destroy the world, but neither of them would let the other one do it. They were strong enough to fight each other and survive.

Lex stared into Clark's eyes, green as meteor rock, and the world was reduced to an expanse of skin. The fire was nothing more than embers, and Lex thought they looked like a new galaxy of red-hot stars that sputtered and died in the space of a heartbeat, a breath.

"What now?" Clark asked, and there wasn't a flicker of doubt as Lex answered, "Fuck me."

Clark rolled off and strode to the desk, Lex admiring the way every muscle moved with perfect grace as Clark opened the bottom drawer and extracted a small bottle of lube.

`How did you-"

"X-ray vision, Lex," Clark said, settling himself between Lex's legs with the first hint of a smile. Clark slicked his fingers with the lube, lightly stroking Lex's already recovered cock, before gently lifting Lex's legs and slipping a finger inside him. Lex arched, pushing himself onto Clark's finger, and letting out a hiss of pain.

"I can hurt you, Lex," Clark said darkly, "but I don't need to, I don't want to." There was another finger joining the first, stretching and scissoring, and Lex pushed harder, wanting it to hurt, knowing it would make it real.

"Pain makes it real, makes you know you're alive," Lex breathed between clenched teeth, concentrating on the movements of Clark's fingers as they stroked into him, opening him wider and wider, finally finding the spot that made him see stars.

"Makes you know you're human," Clark whispered, and Lex nodded. They were more alike than he'd ever thought possible. The fingers slipped out and Lex groaned in protest. A gentle laugh, and then Clark's cock was nudging at his hole, pushing through the first tight ring of skin, robbing Lex of thought and language, everything that wasn't pain and pleasure and want. He was full of Clark, his own cock throbbing in response at Clark's first thrust, a long deliberate slide, too careful, and so exquisitely Clark.

"Clark," he said, and he heard his name given in answer, traded as if it were something precious, a name for a name, secret for a secret, and then Clark was all the way inside him, splitting him like an atom. Lex dug his hands into Clark's shoulders, and opened his eyes, watched the wonder on Clark's face as he thrust again, harder, brow furrowed in sweet concentration, and Lex matched his rhythm as much as he could with the stone hard at his back and Clark's hands slick on his hips.

"Come on, Clark," Lex said. "Harder. Don't hold back. I want everything."

Clark shook his head weakly, but his thrusts became harder, and Lex pushed himself off the floor, pushed himself against Clark, daring him to look away, daring him to let his strength go. Clark's cock was burning inside him, hot and thick, each push a shock of pleasure and when Lex moved, the world went white as Clark found his prostate and Lex might have screamed, really screamed as if Clark were killing him, ripping him apart inside, and really, wasn't that what he'd been doing all along with the lies and the secrets, shattering him piece by piece with looks and touches and promises of what could be. When Clark came inside him, Lex thought the world had ended, white-hot and blinding, his body torn in two and his own cock emptying its chamber like a gun, Clark's voice still echoing like a shot, Lex's name ricocheting off the walls.

Clark curled around him like a wisp of smoke, and Lex wondered if he were drunk or dreaming or if the world really had ended and somehow this was what dying looked like-Clark, naked and smiling, wrapped around him in front of a glowing fire, cum still wet on their skin, open-mouthed kisses making a path along his neck. He rolled over and touched Clark's face.

"Did I hurt you?" Lex asked, and Clark laughed. It was the best sound in the world, and Lex felt it wash over his skin like a tongue.

"I think that's my line," Clark said, gathering Lex against him protectively. "I've never ... let go like that. Ever. I ... I could've seriously hurt you."

"It was ... better than dying," Lex said honestly, and Clark's eyes darkened slightly. "I mean, when I hit you with my car--"

Clark nodded and didn't look away.

"--I died. For a moment, I was flying over Smallville."

"I remember," Clark said seriously.

"This ... us together. It felt like dying, like the end of the world, the beginning of it. Everything."

Clark nodded again. "It was everything I could never tell you, everything I was afraid of. I've wanted you for so long, Lex, and I was afraid of that, of you, myself. What would happen, what I could do to anyone I loved ... or hated."

"I didn't mean to hurt you. The rock. I really didn't know," Lex murmured, and Clark tucked him closer.

"I know. I could see it in your face, underneath it all. How scared you were, and fear--"

"Fear makes people crazy," Lex finished, kissing him. "Love too."

Clark smiled. "We have a seriously screwed up relationship, you know. I wanted to hurt you, Lex, and I could've done it. You couldn't have stopped me."

"I still have the rock," Lex said calmly. "I wasn't kidding about it being on the mantle."

Clark looked at him thoughtfully, skin a shade paler in the flickering light. Lex stroked his hair gently, glad that he could touch him now, like this, the need to possess and control gone from both of them.

"But I didn't need the rock, Clark. I know you. I trust you. You needed to know that too. To trust yourself. No matter what you think you could do ... well, I know you. You wouldn't have hurt me."

"And that's why you ... you let me fuck you. To prove a point?" The beginnings of anger crept into Clark's voice.

"No. I'm a selfish bastard, Clark. I wanted you. I've loved you since the day I opened my eyes and tasted you in my mouth. And no matter how hard I try, I'll always be willing to do anything for that, for you. You have the strength to destroy the world, but you wouldn't. If I didn't have you, I would."

"So why let me back in? Why not end it all? I lied to you for two years, Lex," Clark whispered, and his voice was barely audible.

"Because you save me every day," Lex said, brushing Clark's lips gently with his own. "Because today you needed me to save you ... if only from your own fears. And mine."

Clark kissed him gently, and Lex could taste the gratitude on his tongue, sweet as mint. He pulled away, and held Clark's face in his hands.

"I love you," Clark murmured, and his smile lit up the room.

"So this is what it feels like to save the world," Lex said, and didn't resist when Clark pushed him gently backwards, hands and tongue and mouth the only thanks he needed.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Slash Advent Calendar, December 2004.


End file.
